


19. Broken Glass and the Rest of Your Life

by victoriousscarf



Series: 30 Au Challenge [4]
Category: DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Future, Multi, futuristic setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-19 22:24:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11907441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf
Summary: The future isn't always good, the future isn't always better.Only a day after Bruce Wayne goes missing--presumed dead--Dick Grayson has to pick up the pieces of his public life while keeping his hidden life secret.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, it's been a few months since I've written anything. Shit happened. And I realized I needed something totally new to get back into the swing of writing again, so I apologize to all those stories waiting for me to get back to them...
> 
> I admit this first chapter is more about setting up the emotional tenor of what's happening. The second one will be more about the setting and explaining what exactly is going on. Tags will of course be expanded as soon as I have any idea what's going on. 
> 
> Cheers all.

Dick woke up and for a long moment he didn’t move, face pressed against the pillow.

He breathed and kept breathing until he finally sat up, ignoring the sheets as they pooled around him, or the way the lights of the room reacted to his movements. He stared blankly at the fall wall, busy displaying headlines and news without taking any of it in.

Something was chirping at him, trying to get his attention. It was probably another call from Lucius Fox that he was ignoring.

Minutes might have passed like that, or maybe an hour before he put his face in his hands and started screaming.

-0-

“Master Dick,” Alfred greeted him, as he walked down the stairs. “Have you considered－”

“I have to do this, Alfred,” Dick said. “The sooner the better.”

“Are you certain?” Alfred asked, but his hands were folded behind his back and steel was already in his spine.

“Do you want to wait until Tim gets home?” Dick asked, already taking the second staircase down.

“He will not appreciate you doing this without him,” Alfred said.

“I’m certain I don’t appreciate doing this at all,” Dick said, and he reached the bottom of the staircase, a dark storage room. As soon as his feet touched the ground lights started to suffuse the walls, glowing a faint blue white that got stronger as Dick pushed back the false wall and kept going down the long hallway.

“Bruce mattered to him too,” Alfred said.

“He’s still a child,” Dick replied.

“You would never have accepted that excuse at his age either,” Alfred said but when Dick pushed open the next door Alfred stopped walking with him. “What do you intend to do?”

Dick looked around the lab, the room where most of Bruce’s actual work had been conducted, now covered in blood and broken glass.

Bloody footsteps gave some muddled indication to the fight that had occurred, the broken cases where someone might have been thrown. Some shards of glass were covered in blood and displaced from where they should have fallen, like they had been used as weapons along the way.

The bright light from the walls felt wrong.

“I see your point,” Alfred settled for finally.

“No one is going to expect me in public today,” Dick said. “That means we have to go over everything.”

“And then?” Alfred asked.

Dick looked around one more time, feeling like someone had gotten a knife into his chest and was slowly dragging it down. “We destroy it.”

“Master Dick,” Alfred said in some surprise.

“Someone got in here,” Dick said, and he hesitated, his fingers hovering over the empty space where Jason’s coffin had been. “Someone __knows__ , Alfred. We salvage what we can and then it all goes.”

“Master Tim isn’t going to forgive you for this,” Alfred said.

“I know,” Dick said, and he sighed once before he stepped further into the room, pulling gloves on.

-0-

Later that night he sat in Bruce’s public study, one knee curled up against his chest, the window that looked out over Gotham currently a screen showing the news. He realized his hand was shaking around the glass of water he held so he carefully set it down as the news played again the grainy video of Bruce’s murder.

The commentator gave the exact same story that had repeated over and over the last twenty four hours and Dick couldn’t figure out why he still bothered to turn the news on at all.

“You are a piece of fucking work,” someone said from the doorway and Dick carefully took in a breath and let it back out.

“Tim,” he greeted, not moving or turning the screen off.

“You had no right.”

“I had no choice,” Dick corrected, and Tim came around the couch, hands on his hips and rage on his face.

“You destroyed his lab. Everything he worked for－for decades－was in there. You didn’t even let me see it－you didn’t let me look or help－”

“Tim,” Dick said softly. “Just trust me for a moment. You wouldn’t have wanted to be there.”

“I was raised by him as much as you were! What are you even thinking?” Tim demanded.

“I don’t have to ask if you’ve already seen,” Dick said, gesturing to the screen behind Tim. “Tim, you must have recognized that. Someone found that lab, they got inside. Almost every secret Bruce had was at their fingertips.”

“Then we’re already lost,” Tim said.

“Maybe,” Dick said, dropping his knee and crossing his arms over his chest instead. “Maybe not. But we can’t stay here. If we distance ourselves from this place, if we destroy any evidence, they won’t have the proof of what we’ve done.”

Tim paused, looking at the window. “Well, no police have crashed down your door.”

“No,” Dick agreed.

“You still should have waited,” Tim said. “I might have been able to see something, to find something－”

“Like what?” Dick asked. “Tim, no. There was nothing to find. No secret to uncover about what happened. It’s pretty clear,” and he gestured at the screen again before wincing and looking away.

“You don’t actually believe that tape, do you?” Tim asked.

“It’s been meddled with,” Dick said. “But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

Tim frowned, cocking his head and looking down at Dick. “What? That’s it for you? You have an obviously doctored tape, and you’re just willing to accept that Bruce is gone? Is that really what he’s meant to you?”

Dick slammed his hand down on the side table, the sound startling Tim. “How dare you.”

“He’s not dead, Dick,” Tim said, face earnest and shining with conviction. “Surely you can see that? You can’t have given up on him already.”

“Tim,” Dick said and he bit his lip and looked away. “Tim, he’s __dead__. Wishing isn’t going to bring him back. It’s never brought anyone back.”

“How can you just say that?” Tim asked. “There’s so much evidence－”

“There’s no evidence Tim.”

“You already admitted the tape was doctored,” Tim snapped.

“That doesn’t change that he died,” Dick said. “You didn’t,” his voice broke and he had to try again. “You didn’t see the blood. You didn’t see.”

“But they left no body,” Tim said.

“This isn’t a story, Tim,” Dick said. “They took Jason’s body too. They could have taken one or both for any number of reasons. That doesn’t mean he’s not dead.”

Tim paused, frowned again and Dick finally reached out, shutting the screen behind him off with a gesture. “Why did they take Jason’s body?”

“I don’t know,” Dick said, looking away. “There could be any number of reasons for it. A final insult to Bruce maybe.”

“Did they take his research too?” Tim asked.

Dick sighed before nodding.

“Was there, was there __anything__  to tell you who did this?” Tim asked.

“I’ve been trying to analyze their fighting style from the tape,” Dick said. “The way they moved. But I can’t figure it out at all. I have no handle on who they might have been. And they were good, there’s nothing in the lab either.”

“Can you really be sure of that?” Tim asked.

Dick leveled a long look at him. “There was nothing else to find there, Tim, and we have to keep moving forward. We couldn’t have left that much of a liability on our backs.” He pushed himself to his feet abruptly, feeling like he was a hundred years old. “I have work I need to do.”

“Dick,” Tim said, softly, when he was almost at the door. “Why can’t you believe he might be alive?”

Dick stopped, bracing one hand on the door frame and took a deep breath. “Because I can’t afford to.”

“Dick?”

“To hope he might still be alive,” Dick said. “To allow myself that hope, and to find out the truth was that he was gone all along. To have him taken from me a second time. I can’t do it. It would destroy me to hope he might still be alive.”

“I’m going to find him,” Tim promised.

“And I’m not ever going to stop you looking,” Dick said. “But－I cannot.”

For a moment Tim was silent behind him. “I think I understand,” he said finally.

“Good,” Dick managed, took another step and stopped again. “I’ve been talking with Alfred. We’re moving tomorrow into the penthouse, closer to the center of town. I know packing will take longer, but leaving as soon as possible, well,” he swallowed hard. “It would be best.”

“Plus people won’t question your need to be away when the pain is so fresh,” Tim said and Dick dipped his chin in acknowledgment that that too played a role in his decision.

“Try to sleep tonight, Dick,” Tim said softly behind him and Dick nodded.

“You too,” he said faintly before finally forcing himself away. He took the stairs up to his bedroom slowly, still aching all over.

He paused in one of the hallways, looking up at the old style photograph of Bruce’s parents. Bruce had almost been the same age as his father, the same lines starting to appear on his face and Dick winced. He dragged himself to his bedroom, thinking only of falling into the bed, even though he knew he would never be able to sleep.

He opened the door and froze when he found Clark standing there.

“We need to talk,” he said and Dick slammed the door behind himself quickly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned Vessels by Starset is like, the album to this fic.

“You can’t be here,” Dick said, trying to swallow down his panic, adrenaline momentarily wiping away his exhaustion. “You know you can’t.”

“Dick,” Clark started.

“You know,” Dick said. “If the senors find a meta-human in this house, especially after the footage of Bruce—People are already asking questions, Clark.”

“Dick,” Clark said again. “You know I had to come. I know it’s dangerous for you, believe me I am not doing this lightly.”

“Why are you here then?” Dick asked, circling the room and double checking the security of the room and that no one was scanning them.

“Is Bruce really dead?” Clark asked, watching him and staying as still as he could.

“As far as we know,” Dick said, flexing his hands a moment before finally turning back to Clark. “Someone broke into his lab. They could have taken any data, any information. They could know every code word and secret communication, let alone safe house in the city.”

“Dick—”

“I know,” Dick said. “I should have told you. I figured you would have __known__ , based on the tape they keep playing.”

“We suspected,” Clark said. “Steps have already been taken. I understand why you couldn’t risk coming underground to tell us either.”

“No one’s come forward,” Dick said. “With the information they must have found.”

“It’s still too much to hope they won’t,” Clark said, crossing his arms and realizing he moved too late. Dick glanced at one of the screens that was set up to show if anyone was trying to scan them to find it still clear. “Are you sure you shouldn’t all come underground? If you get exposed—”

“Exposed helping the meta revolution that is really just meta humans asking for their rights as citizens and sentient beings? Clark, I know what will happen.”

“You’ve been compromised.”

“Bruce was doing important work,” Dick said. “Work no one else could do. As long as it’s possible, I’m going to continue doing that work.”

“If someone is just biding their time,” Clark said. “You won’t have enough warning to get out.”

“And if I run now, we’ll lose everything Bruce has built,” Dick said. “I won’t do that to his memory or to you.”

Clark stared at him for a long moment before he finally, slowly, nodded.

“Now, the public face of the meta revolution should probably get out of my house,” Dick said, because anything else felt like it would choke him.

“Be careful, Dick,” Clark said. “If Bruce is really gone, I’m not willing to lose both of you at once.”

Dick didn’t think about the way Bruce’s face used to soften when he looked at Clark if he thought no one was watching him, or the way Clark would greet Bruce every single time by throwing his arms around him and lifting his feet an inch off the ground.

“Don’t you know I’m always careful?” he said instead and Clark graced him with a careful and sad smile.

When he left Dick didn’t watch how he got out of the house. He’d never asked Bruce about the late night visits that put them all in danger, and Bruce had never told him.

Instead he sat on the edge of the bed, fingering the fabric of the duvet cover and willing himself to get into bed.

He didn’t.

He sat on the edge of the bed, watching the news until it was almost dawn, watching the video until his eyes were heavy, unable to stop from transposing the image on the bloody chaos of the lab.

By the time he fell asleep sideways on the bed he wasn’t certain if it was penance for not saving Bruce that kept him watching the video, or the hope he was missing something that would make the last day make sense.

-0-

The next day Dick avoided reporters and all of Lucius Fox’s calls as he and Alfred moved what they absolutely needed to the Wayne penthouse, in the center of town instead of on the sprawling edges. Even Wayne Manor had been swallowed by Gotham’s sprawl several decades ago, even if they held onto the illusion of being outside the city proper.

“Will Master Tim be joining us here?” Alfred asked, starting to unpack the first boxes of their equipment.

“I don’t know yet,” Dick said, and he wished he could spend the next week working with Alfred to wire the building with security and finish packing what they needed from the mansion.

He had always understood why Bruce refused to move any closer to the center of Gotham, where scans were more frequent for meta human genetics and where more prying eyes would always be judging them. But Dick couldn’t afford to follow any of Bruce’s eccentricities if he was going to succeed.

So instead of hiding the next day he breezed his way into Wayne Enterprises, acting like he couldn’t hear any of the whispers that started the moment anyone saw him.

Lucius met him by the elevator. “You didn’t answer my calls.”

“My apologies,” Dick said, giving him a broad smile and Lucius narrowed his eyes slightly.

“I’ve been trying to run damage control, but without you I don’t think it’s done much of anything at all.”

“I understand,” Dick said, because he did. He’d spent an hour again that morning simply staring blankly at his mirror after another sleepless night. He wished he could have spent the time with those who would have helped make him feel better, be it Clark or Diana or Wally. Even Tim and his cold anger would have been a comfort.

He refused to let himself think of Donna.

Or Jason.

Sometime around four am he had found himself imagining what it would be like to have Jason there, a warm presence at his side, with his compassion and gentle smiles that were often lost under his flashy snark.

Dick had thought perhaps he’d learned how to live without him.

“Do you know anything about the video?” Lucius asked, and he looked haggard and exhausted.

Dick knew the only reason he __didn’t__  was because he’d spent another half hour in front of the mirror making sure he didn’t. “No,” Dick said.

“Even the location of it?” Lucius asked. “There’s been a lot of talk about what looked like the lab they were in.”

“You know as well as I do that Bruce had a lab,” Dick said. “Where else do you think he did his work on meta trackers?”

“Which he never perfected,” Lucius pointed out and Dick kept his smile on his face. “Though not through lack of trying. Be that as it may, that lab looked nothing like the one I saw on visits.”

Dick shrugged, and as they walked down the hall he ignored everyone looking at him. “He was a very wealthy man, Lucius. You think he didn’t build himself a new lab whenever he felt like it?”

Lucius considered that before nodding. “Alight. You’ll want to mention that at the press conference, when you give it.”

Dick’s smile faltered at that. “Of course.”

“Because there’s also a lot of rumors about who could have been behind it,” Lucius said. “Have the police been able to help you at all?”

“No,” Dick said. “You know they’re useless anyway. They never even came out to the manor.”

Lucius shook his head. “Just for show now a days.”

“Yes,” Dick agreed and was thankful for it.

“And there’s been no demands, no one saying they did it?” Lucius asked.

“No,” Dick said. “Just the leaked video.” Which was suspicious enough in its own right. He knew it must have been someone from outside of Gotham and yet couldn’t figure out who.

“Someone will have to take credit,” Lucius said. “In the meantime, do you have any plans for what you’re going to do next?”

“Of course I do,” Dick said and they had reached Bruce’s office. He hesitated a moment before pushing the door open and strolling in like he belonged there.

-0-

“We’re going to have to burn down the mansion,” Dick said that night, and wished he could allow himself the respite of alcohol.

“I supposed as much,” Alfred said, fiddling with some wiring on the counter. “I don’t suppose I’d have the time to finish packing it first?”

“Try to prioritize,” Dick said. “Even more than you already are. Ask Tim if he can help. We just can’t have it be too neat, where we finish packing and the next day it goes up in flames. But we also can’t let it wait too long. If people start snooping and __can’t__  find that lab—”

“I understand,” Alfred said. “I will endeavor to do my best.”

He turned away and Dick sat, flipping the stylus in his hands several times. “Alfred. You knew about Clark coming, didn’t you?”

“Of course I knew,” Alfred said. “Why? What bothers you?”

“Nothing bothers me about it,” Dick said. “It’s just—knowing I’m about to blow up someone’s connection to their lover.”

“It’s also burning down your own childhood,” Alfred pointed out.

“I know,” Dick said, but thinking of Clark’s pain briefly distracted him from his own.

“Master Bruce loved him quite a lot,” Alfred said, looking down and covered his face with one hand, nodding.

“I—” he started as one of the windows crashed. Dick had time to brace himself before someone threw themselves at him, a tiny whirl of violence and that more than anything gave his assailant away.

“How dare you!” the boy yelled, and Dick caught his hand that held a knife. “He’s dead and you didn’t protect him and now you think you can take his company, all that is rightfully mine?”

“It’s not rightfully yours, it never was,” Dick said, and after a moment’s struggle flipped them so he could pin the boy down. “Damian. __Damian__.”

“Let go of me Grayson! I will defeat you and I will take my place as—”

He was so focused on Dick, he didn’t notice Alfred until the sedative was already in his system. “And you need to fight… fair…” he managed, shaking his head but Dick held him down until he passed out.

“Well this is a complication,” Alfred remarked and Dick sighed.


End file.
